The trench

Every day is the same; we get up at sunrise and begin our work on The Trench. Since we all sleep together there’s hardly any wasted time, we just stand up and stretch a little as we eat, then get to digging. All day long we dig, shoveling the dirt back over our shoulders at a furious pace. The completed portion of The Trench—our life’s work—extends in a perfectly straight line behind us. It reaches across the barren, almost featureless landscape all the way to the horizon. But there aren’t many opportunities to turn around and look because we’re so busy digging. Those of us in good physical condition perform the most rigorous tasks, like picking at the obstinate ground or hauling dirt away from the excavation. The rest do what we can to sweep the dust into little piles and maintain the precise shape of The Trench. Once I’m too old to perform even these simple functions my only value will be of the nutritive sort. When that day comes I’ll wait until it's dark and try to sneak off down The Trench, though it’s unlikely that I’ll make it very far